The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-05-19


Meanwhile Max ran past the last
houses Of the village, and his shadow
ran beside him. Max had no hat on
his head, no shoes on his feet. In his
left hand he held his fathers canteen
and the piece of black bread his moth.
or had given him In the evening, and
in bis right hand he held a large knife.
The trees and bushes whispered gently
as he passed, the crosses and monu-
ments over in the cemetery shone
ghostly in the moonlight, and dark
shadows looked forth behind every
stone and fence post. Max did not
look to the right nor left, but strobe
straight on. What should he be afraid
Of? The stones and fence posts he
knew we'll enough, he had seen them
many times q day,--and the crosses
over there too. And that they threw
now such mysterious shadows-this
was caused by the moen-and he knew
the moon, too!
But farther on; over the next hill
near the edge of the forest-the boys
heart trembled; his Gst grasped. the
knife more firmly, he hastened his
steps, his cheeks and eyes glowed; his
hair flew in the night wind.
Max neared the battlefield: A pc
culiar horrid 6dor met him. The
smoke Of powder was still in the air.
But round about everything was Quiet,
only the forest rustled gently. Max
drew a deep breath and walked slow.
He wanted to see everything, examine
everything and to listen. Perhaps
watches had been put out-he did not
want to be caught-he went to find
his father and who would find him if
not his son?
With wide open eyes he passed the
last hill and came upon the great
meadows beyond: Here, then, was
the battlefield! Yes there lay some
thing on the ground; gun. and near
it the cartridge box, and there-yes,
there lay the man who belonged to
the gun and the cartridge box; or was
it the one near the hazel bush? or the
one next to him?
Max felt his heart beating wildly.
Dead-dead people everywhere, and
there horses, and uprooted turf and
uptdrned earth. Max ran from one
dark form to another, and bent over
every corpse to see it's pale face. The
boy himself was pale as death: If he
should find his father sd! But these
were all soldiers; he recognized them
from afar by the metal buttons which
shone il the moonlight. He had to
think OF the trim men as they rode in
the morning laughing and cursing
through the village; and now they
lay mulilated, covered with blood
and earth, forsaken and forgotten.
Max ran ever faster this way and
that way. From time to time he
stopped and walked across the fed.
II only the trees could speak! they
had seen everything, they knew if he
had gone on with the enemy or wheth-
er he had fallen on the field.
"Dear Lord; grant that find hin"
cried Max, looking up to the starry
sky. "Father, ara you here? Do you
not hear me? Your Max is here!
father!'
There came an answer; but not the
one Max had prayed fora loud mer.
ry neighing from a horse which re echo
ed from the forest. Max almost drop
ped canteen, bread and knife in his.
surprise and fright, but in the next
moment he leaped over the dead and
guns and broken wagons toward where
the neighing came from.
"Bay!" he cried "old Bay" and
there he stood beside the old horse,
near the upturned cart at the edge of
the forest. "Where is my father"
cried Max, standing before the faithful
animal and looking anxiously at him,
as if he could get an answer. "Don't
you know, Bay?-don't you?"
But the horse turned his head aside
toward beech and bent it's head
down into the grass. In the next
moment Max knelt beside the man
who lay there. Poor boy! With
what haste did he feel of his head and
breast; with what trembling hands
did he raise the heavy head on his
knees, how anxiously, with what look
of love, despair and hope did he gaze
into the silent, unconscious face.
"Father!" cried he, "your Max is
here! 1t is l! You hear me; open
your eyes only a little, only that l
might know that you live, that can
tell it to mother! Please, dear, good,
father. open your eyes!''
The hot tears streamed down the
cheeks of tho child and fell on the
forehead of the man; and was it the
tears, or was it the sobbing, beseech.
ing voice which opened the tired,
closed eyes? Who can tell?-but they
did open, and Max hung on his ia.
theirs neck overpowered with joy.
"Child, you here?" said the father,
with weak voice, after. having looked
at him some time in bewildered
way. MAX"
Eyes, it is /, father!" cried the little
fellow. half frightened, half joyful. II
came to fetch you; bring you home
to mother. Are you sick, father7
Are you"
He did not dare to say what he
thought.
Il think it is my leg" said the fa-
theE, and tried to sit up.
"Have you pains?' asked Max,
kneeling and covering with both hands
the bleeding wound of the leg.
"Only a little-but am thirsty. so
thirsty!'
II knew that" said Max, looking
for the things he had dropped. "All
wounded are thirsty. I have brought
water-here-in your own canteen.
There, drink; that will refresh you;
and perhaps you are hungry. Doyou
want some bread? Only just a little
piece"
He put the bread in his fathers
hand, then he took his handkerchie.
and tried to bandage the leg as we'll IS
he could. "Mother will make 1t bet
ter, if we only get to her." he said en-.
couragingly, whilst he ran to the up
turned cart.
II cannot raise it," said he, after
having tried hard to do so; "but Bay
will carry you home, that will do; and
we will walk very slow, soyou should
not have too much pain. l will help
you.-be not afraid"
Slowly indeed, but with great exer.
ton from little Max, who was bathed
in perspiration, they succeeded First
Bays harness was cut and he was put
close to the wounded man, and then
the father was helped on the horse